PS 



35 01 
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IJtagftte jtafel 



BY 



ROLLIN COREY, 



(GEO. S. DELANOJ 



MEDFORD, MASSACHUSETTS. 



COPYRIGHTED 
NOVEMBER, 1899. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/thoughtspoeticalOOdela 



»toghte * jtattcal 



BY 



ROLLIN COREY, 



(GEO. S. DELANO.) 



MEDFORD, MASSACHUSETTS. 



COPYRIGHTED 
NOVEMBER, 1899. 



\_. 



<3« SU^dU-tfW. AtJUx>vvo 



i^ffi 



I Library or Coi 

Two Copies Re. 
ML 8 1900 

SECOND COPY. 

Delivered (o 
ORDER DIVISION. 

JUL 16 1900 I 



65389 






Sunrise at Rockland, me. 



Looking up through Penobscot Bay, 
Sleepily at first, with night-dimmed eyes, 
Then with many a golden ray 
Reaching up to the clouded skies, 
Blushing good morning to Owl's Head, 
Gilding mist o'er Bay Point sleeping, 
Grandly comes the sun from his bed, 
And his glances slowly creeping 
O'er Cooper's Beach among the pines, 
Awake the song-birds in their nests, 
Then o'er the calm bay his smile shines, 
And glows upon the sea-gulls' breasts. 

Camden mountains, with dark clouds capped, 
Catch his lances of golden light, 
And soon around the craigs are wrapt 
Swaying folds, radiantly bright, 
Which weave with the mist from the bay, 
Float o'er the lake, along the stream, 
Until cometh the full-born day, 
When they flee away like a dream. 

The vessels riding in the bay 
Heave short their anchors, set their sails, 
And with the land breeze fill away 
To broad Atlantic's swells and gales. 

Now the robins carol their trills — 
'Tis morning on the purling stream, 
Bright morning on mountains and hills; 
The night has gone, 'twas but a dream. 



J\ Dream of Old Rome. 



Apple blossoms cluster around the gate, 
And sunflowers hang o'er the mossy wall, 
Where humming birds with the honey bees mate, 
Until 'round the mountain night's shadows fall. 

Fleecy clouds dreamily flecking the sky, 
Are mirrored on the bosom of the rills, 
Which among the meadows sing merrily 
The forests anthems they learned in the hills. 

Love eyed Jerseys moo good morning to me, 
The red breast and lark a " welcome home " sing, 
As they go to feed in the dewy lea, 
And on swaying branches fluttering cling. 

In a circling grove of cedars and pines, 

Stands the old homestead — a love-enframed gem, 

Hung with roses and honeysuckle vines, 

A jewel fit for a king's diadem, 

With its gabled roof, rich colored in years 

By the frosts of winter and summer's tears. 

Dear old home, into which the sunlight pours; 

Bright'ning to new life the picture so fair ; 

Big hearted home with its wide opening doors, 

Its glowing hearth and mem'ry laden air, 

And its every loved spot I've held so dear, 

Saying, " Welcome, our boy, we love you here." 

Out where the sunbeams mingled hues of gold 
With the silver sheen of her dark brown hair, 
With soulful eyes, which will never grow old, 
Mother comes smiling, my mother so fair. 

How fondly she holds me close to her breast, 
And clings to my lips with a loving kiss, 
Nestles me again in the love-lined nest, 
For which I've longed as for heavenly bliss. 



Through the garden we walk, her hand in mine, 
Gathering flowers as in the days of yore, 
Around her head I a rose garland twine, 
While we 're mother and baby boy once more. 

When slept the sun in the golden-veiled west, 
Mother twined my brow with a wreath of flowers, 
And clasping me again to her breast, 
Sang me to sleep as in babyhood's hours. 



ermadine. 



Jin Tdyl of mmmx Tells. 



Where the lake of Mystic narrows, 

And the lowlands gather 'round it, 

Where it hides 'neath great trees' shadows 

As it greeteth Horn Pond's spirit 

And the sprites, which Abna-Jona 

Caught among the meadows sleeping, 

Where the shades of Bear Hill linger, 

Oft is heard when day is dying, 

A whispered song of love's delights, 

Over the lake sweetly floating, 

And echoing back from the heights, 

In waves of music o'er the lake, 

'Till at length is softly spoken, 

As the night winds slowly awake, 

" Ermadine, I bring the token." 

Ermadine, Ermadine, name of 
Music, Ermadine, filled with love, 
Golden ringlets, and beaming eyes, 
Tinted with a shade of sadness 
Amid their hues of deep blue skies, 
Must she have whose name could express 
Naught but music, only love true — 
Oh, Ermadine, such must be you. 

Fair she was as is the lily 
Swaying gently above the bed 
Of the youth, who loved her fondly. 
Golden ringlets were round her head, 
But her eyes like stars so brilliant, 
Although lang'rous when she willed it, 
Like a snake's their beguilment sent 
Into Norman's trusting spirit. 

Yet love embodied could she be, 
And such she was when first he saw 



Ermadine, the fells-land's beauty, 
Where the towering pine trees are 
On the knoll, around which gather 
Mists of meadow with forest dew, 
When those breezes over it linger 
Whose coolness ocean's rollers brew. 



Smiled she on him, drew him to her, 

And at once were his senses charmed 

By the maid of Abna-Jona, 

By the being with power armed 

To love or hate, give bliss or pain — 

Ermadine, queen of the Fells, 

Who more than queen o'er men did reign 

By her subtle power and spells, 

Till — Norman died, the spirit pure, 

Then died she, where Horn Pond's spirit 

With moaning sighs now sings of her, 

And weeds her tomb have closely knit. 

She bade him bring true love's token 

In a tear from a broken heart — 

So bade Norman, who had spoken, 

" Oh woodland nymph, my love thou art. 1 

Not long delayed he wooing her, 
Who loved him fondly, as he knew, 
The child of chief Win-chi-na-ta, 
Who o'er the lake in her canoe 
Came to meet him in the gloaming, 
Yea, in sunshine or in the storm, 
He, the youth she 'd long been loving, 
The Bdyall youth, who free from harm 
Roamed the forests, for his people 
Friends had been of Win-chi-na-ta — 
Sang with him when the air was still 
From the race to Abna-Jona, 
In her canoe drifted with him 
Until night's queen slept in the west, 
Loved with him 'till the stars grew dim, 
While she lingered upon his breast. 



So lived the maid till he bade her 
Speak no more of loving to him, 
Then it was she could but murmur : 
" Oh Norman, Norman, my eyes dim 
With the tears my heart sheds in grief — 
But ' tis not true that you 'd leave me. 
Oh, Norman, give my heart relief — 
Speak to her who loves you fondly." 

Thus it was that Norman left her, 

Broken-hearted, and sped away 

To the queen of Abna-Jona, 

Singing in glee a lover's lay, 

Thus he bore the tear-drop token 

He 'd wrung from the maid's breaking heart, 

Sang he then, "The spell is broken, 

Fair Ermadine, my love thou art." 

O Ermadine, bewitching queen, 
Sylph of the fells-lands, traitor heart, 
You heard his voice, and peering 'tween 
Leaves of lilies, where eddies start 
As singing rills their waters send 
Around the bluff, where pine trees bend 
With touch of east wind and of west, 
O Ermadine, upon thy breast 
You bade him lay " true love's token," 
But as above the rippling lake 
Echoed the words he had spoken, 
And thy fair hand the tear would take, 
Twanged the bow of Win-chi-na-ta, 
Sped his arrow swift through the air, 
And Norman died where lilies are 
Clustering so fragrant and fair — 
And Ermadine, you sped away, 
A coward once, from your great sin, 
But ere the sun announced the day, 
Died where thv tomb is woven in. 



Sunset 



Mist clouds gather over the valley fair, 
Shadows of night slant slowly up the hills, 
Golden-red lances fill the summer air. 
Calm is the river, softly sing the rills, 
The sun 's going to sleep beyond the bay, 
To gather glory for the coming day. 

Twitter the swallows homeward to their nests, 
Gather peeping chicks under mother's breasts, 
Drowsy cows bid the rich meadows adieu, 
And laden with milk, with many a " moo," 
Down the wood lane wend their quiet way 
To tie-ups beneath mows of new-mown hay. 

The milkmaid sings her merry evening song, 

As with the children she frolics along 

To receive the rich treasures from her friends, 

Gathered where herds-grass with sweet-red-top blends, 

Where with the buttercup the daisy lives, 

And blooming clover its rich fragrance gives. 

The moon slowly raising her glowing face, 
Courtesies to night with bewitching grace, 
Scatters her rich light with generous hand 
From the mountain's top to the river's sand ; 
O'er homes rich with joy, or filled with sorrow, 
Bringing promises of glad tomorrow. 

Mist over the valleys, shadows on the hills, 
Music in rivers, laughter in rills, 
Birds snugly nestled in their bough-hid homes, 
All the world 's sleeping till the new day comes ; 
Gently sleeping in the moon's golden light 
While over them watches the queen of night. 



Days of Cove. 



Oh, days of love, buried in tears 
Shed by heart's misunderstanding, 
Sweep aside the sorrowful years 
Within whose grave thou art hiding. 

Let bloom again all the flowers 
Crushed to death by tempests of grief, 
And bring again the happy hours 
When I drew love from her full sheaf. 

Oh, days of love, come back again 
And roll sorrow's dark clouds away, 
Turn tears of grief to love's warm rain, 
And with thy sun bring joyous day. 



Slander's Shaft. 



Who sees the flight of the arrow lie? 
' Tis a shaft unseen by human eye, 
But unerring is the poisoned dart, 
Whose mark is ever a human heart. 

If the cruel shaft could only turn 
In its cursed flight, and rend and burn 
The heart of him Avho vilely shot it, 
Or by it his lying tongue be split, 
Then might the fame of honest men be 
Safe from the slanderer's perjury. 



Cbe Open Sesame. 



There 's a tender spot in every heart 
Which finds in mankind a kindred part, 
And, as roses in the sunshine grow, 
Responds to moods which with kindness glow. 



CIk Robo. 



No friend but poverty has the hobo ; 

Dirty, ragged, forlorn — How came he so? 

This man, this soul-home, this once mother's love? 

Dimples were his, and tiny feet, this dove 

Of peace which came to a home long ago, 

Bringing joy and sunshine to the hearts so 

Strong and true, strengthening vows fondly plighted, 

Which by his coming, closer united 

Youth and maiden fair, mother and father, ever 

By a living bond nought could sever. 

Grew a boy, this baby fair, romped and played 

With healthful strength and youthful glee, nor stayed 

His onward going, father's hope and pride, 

But upward reached to the full, manful tide 

Of strength, the climax of his baby life, 

The blooming flower to husband and wife, 

Who had watched their plant from the tiny sprout, 

Until the sturdy stalk, grown tall, threw out 

The blossoms they often in prayer had sought, 

The tribute their loves unto God had brought. 

The hobo has bowed low beneath the rod, 
The man mother brought so pure unto God ; 
In paths leading but to the depths of hell, 
Driven he's been by that relentless spell 
Which in glowing lights its powers disclose 
Before revealing the snake in the rose. 

Is this hobo but a creature debased? 

Think you sin which broke God's image, erased 

From within it the mem'ry of mother? 

That even his filthiness can smother 

The cry which often from his heart rings wild, 

Oh mother, mother! love me yet, your child ! 

Ah, no, around his heart thro' all these years, 

Kept ever fruitful by memory's tears, 

Has lived that vine with love's flowers blooming, 

Whose swaying tendrils have e're been singing 

Prayers and hymns long ago sung by mother, 

Which no weight of sin can ever smother. 



Cook up, my Soul. 



Look up, my soul, shadows gather 
From clouds of earth, not from light, 
Gleaming where the angels linger 
Joyously in Jesus' sight. 

Look up and sing, earth is sorrow, 
But 'bove the clouds heaven lies, 
Where God's sun lights each tomorrow 
Ere the light of today dies. 

Oh, sing, my soul, cast off all grief, 
Let heaven's light imbue thee, 
For there from pain is sure relief, 
And music eternally. 



fl Query. 



Who wishes to be made a mummy 
And then become a show-room dummy? 
Better far 'tis to enrich the ground, 
Then be filled with spices, and tied around 
With cloth and pitch to keep you in shape. 
That like a stuffed missing link or ape 
You may be prodded by science fools, 
Who will fight for their conflicting schools 
Until the strongest asserts his claim 
To be awarded eternal fame. 
Then your ruins, with scantiest grace, 
Will be buried in "any old place." 



niemoriatn 

Co Rev. Itl. aiiiigan, fee. 22, mo. 



Though still 's the voice which oft has spoken 
Words of cheer to sorrowing hearts, 
Yet liveth now that bond unbroken 
Which from thy kindness strength imparts. 
For man thou wert, brother and neighbor, 
And around thy mem'ry will shine 
Undimmed by time, the brilliant lustre 
Of true man love, which is divine. 



E Requiem. 



Only a whisper, but a sigh 
Which is a stifled moan, 
Only in the crowd passing by 
A weary soul — alone. 

Only a sorrow-tortured brain, 
Thinking of self murder, 
As a sad heart murmurs in pain, 
" Oh, where art thou, mother!" 

And then ? a coffin-shrouded form 
Borne to a pauper's grave, 
Because the world's fierce, selfish storm 
Murdered the heart so brave. 

Hear the anthem sung by the earth, 
While as if in delight 
It hides the " unknown," who at birth 
Gladdened a mother's sight ! 

"Oh life, life! where is thy glory, 
Where thy music and mirth ? 
Forgotten in the sad story, 
Sorrow shall follow birth." 



EaKe moosekad. 



Crown jewel of Maine, Moosehead the grand, 
For unknown centuries hast thou lain 
Where forests and mountains ever stand 
Guard o'er thy treasures, lake queen of Maine. 

Thy voice roars in the foaming races, 
Yet whispers where sigh hemlocks and pines 
Around the river's resting places, 
Where the lily its tendrils entwines 
Before thy path, that it may hold thee 
Yet a moment from the great rivers, 
Which, as they rush along to the sea, 
Would sweep thee from thy forest lovers. 

Sing on, O Moosehead, queen lake of Maine, 
Thou fountain head of her great waters ; 
Sing on, where for ages thou hast lain 
Tuning the voices of thy daughters ; 
Sing on, when glinting in the moonlight, 
When enveloped in Kineo's mist, 
Or tossing thy waves to the sunlight 
While for their key the forest choirs list. 



Co IU mystic 



Flow on, ye woodland rills, aquiver 

With grand anthems voiced by bird and tree ; 

Sing to the tide, O winding river, 

And send the rills' anthems to the sea. 

Let naught of joy be taken from thee, 
O home by the Mystic long my own, 
Although sad the harvest mine must be 
Grown from the seed by slanderers sown. 

Yea, sing, O river, and all ye rills 
Until joy's in all hearts around thee, 
Though stealing down from Wa-ren-sa hills, 
Despair folds his dark clouds around me. 



Bay of merrymeeting. 



O Merrymeeting, ever singing, 
When along thy shores in summer days 
Trees are green and flowers are blooming, 
And weird notes on thy wave harps ringing 
When the storm king's hand upon thee lays, 
And ocean's scuds are o'er thee flying; 
Fairest daughter of Kenebago, 
Jewels of dewdrops proudly wearing. 
Quick over the falls thy waters go, 
Onward swirling, foaming and curling, 
Gleefully laughing in their wildness 
Out of the daylight into darkness. 
Away, away in the sunlight again, 
Swiftly bearing to the mighty sea 
His mists, which amid the hills have lain 
Stored in mosses, laughing bay for thee. 

O Merrymeeting, sparkling water, 
Rippling along the pine-grown shore ; 
Mother of rills, the mountains' daughter, 
From the great rocks where the rapids roar, 
Down to the Kennebec's swift-running tide, 
Deep run thy waters, bearing along 
Kenebago's greeting to his bride, 
Which Androscoggin repeats in song. 

Broad Merrymeeting, swirling water, 
Full 's thy store of legends and stories ; 
O child of rills and cool springs' mother, 
Thine eyes have beheld Norsemen's glories, 
And o'er and o'er the silent greetings 
Of red men upon the warpath : 
Yea, far too often tearful partings 
When the white men met Indian wrath. 

Birds love thee, bright sparkling water, 
And carol their anthems o'er thy breast. 
O bride of hills, river's daughter, 
Whose voice was attuned in the forest, 



Where the rills to brooks whisper and sing, 
Where the wild rose vines tenderly cling 
Around great trees, whose swaying branches 
Embrace the sun's light as he glances 
Merrily in where mountain echoes 
Send back to thee the forest choir's lay, 
And even the wind tunefully blows 
To enrich thy voice, O songful bay. 



The heart which knows but joy and gladness, 
And ever sings a merry lay, 
Knoweth not love, for in that, sadness 
Ever weaves as night into day. 



E Dream in Itliadlesex Tells. 



Bubbling, gurgling, upward swirling, 
Sparkling when 'twas touched by sunlight, 
Which among the trees was glinting, 
Shimmering dew distilled by night 
From mountain clouds and mists of leas, 
Tempest's rain and fog from seas, 
Was born one morning, Per-ine spring, 
Whose limpid waters rippling sing 
As through Love brook, down to the seas, 
They bear to Neptune woodland glees. 

A forest maiden kissed the spring 

As it gushed among the mosses ; 

The dew-born spring 

Around which cling 

Lilies twined with water cresses, 

And to it sang 

In tones which rang 

O'er Ram-a-so's Bed merrily, 

" O bright-eyed spring 

Whose waters sing 

And whose spirit ever roams free, 

Please bear my message to the sea." 

Raising a dying lily's head, 

And sprinkling its petals with dew, 

Smilingly the bubbling spring said, 

" Because you 've kissed me, I'll serve you, 

And take your message to the sea, 

But you must quickly give it me, 

For I delay 

Not night or day 

Bearing to my parent the sea 

Dewdrops which its mists gave to me." 

Coyly hiding her blushing face 
Behind her curling black-brown hair, 
Sang the blushing maid, " We all chase 
Phantoms, but love, the treasure rare, 
The forest's spirit brought to me 
In a drop of dew from the sea." 



" Love ! " answered the spring mirthfully, 

Tossing up a bouquet of spray ; 

" Love, dear maid, is a mystery, 

A myth ever fleeing away. 

It is entrancing, — 

Yes, bewitching; 

But as with the sun's awaking 

Dewdrops disappear in the sky, 

So the phantom you are chasing 

Will live as a tear from your eye." 

k< Not all love is tears, doubting spring, 
Born this day in the woodland's heart, 
And when around you mermaids sing 
Of love, with all their witching art, 
You will know love is the flower 
Which alone through life will endure, 
And even in the darkest hour 
Diffuse its fragrance ever pure." 

" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the merry spring. 
" Dear forest maid, I know love's tale, 
But what did the sea's dewdrop bring 
Which hung 'round you the mystic veil ? " 

" Not a mystic veil brought to me 
The forest's spirit, doubting spring, 
But prince Triton's love, from the sea, 
Where mermaids of love ever sing." 

Dreamily flowed the spring 
While it softly replied, 
" Love's now a fickle thing 
And never did abide." 

•' Hurry down to the mighty waves 
Beneath which are Triton's grand caves, 
And give him" — she paused, bashful thing 
Then sweetly said, " my love, dear spring." 

The spring dashed away in a rill 
Which fed Love brook beneath the hill, 
A.nd onward through the swift river, 
Whose bounding heart was aquiver 
With songs from mountain, hill and lea, 
Merrily rippled to the sea. 



With a hearty roar and a dashing spray, 
Greeted the spring, did the busy sea, 
While sprites and mermaids from main and bay 
Embraced their friend and sang joyously. 

Drank dewdrops did ocean's deity, 
Sipped from cooling rills did his great son, 
While the spring gave its life to the sea, 
And told Triton of the love he 'd won. 

Wept for joy did the prince, who had won 

A forest maiden for his lover, 

And his heart's tears distilled by the sun, 

Floated among the mists of summer, 

Over the ocean and forest, 

Around the shores of Wa-ren-sa Lake, 

And lay in dew on the maiden's breast, 

One morn when the birds bade her awake. 

She saw in the dew her lover's heart, 
And eagerly watched for his coming, 
But she knew not the mermaiden's art, 
Or measured the ocean sprite's cunning. 

For one purpose they joined their graces — 

Beautiful forms, bewitching faces, — 

Voices which as e'er cooeth the dove, 

Echo ever the accents of love. 

Eyes sparkling love in their mildest glance, 

Lips saying, " Come kiss," whene'er the chance, 

Till around him a web was woven 

Which bound him closely unto their charms, 

And forgetting his forest maiden, 

He found his pleasure in Circe's arms. 

Into months grew days, and then to years, 
But the recreant lover came not 
To the Fells-lands, where often in tears, 
Waited the maiden who ne'er forgot 
The words he writ in the drop of dew. 
Forgot? How could she, who had given 
Him a heart which only true love knew, 
Forget the words a prince had spoken? 



Longing hearts will not patiently wait 
While unseen hands are weaving their fate, 
And at length the maiden sped away 
To the sea where her heart's treasure lay. 

Neptune saw her weeping on the sand, 
And hearing her tale, thrust out his hand, 
Struck Egg Rock from Nahant asunder, 
And cried, " At woe I do not wonder, 
For that is a portion of all life ; 
But that Triton should forsake a wife 
His heart has wedded, shall not be 
While Neptune remains king of the sea." 

Then in fury rushed the sea's king on 
Circe, who, with Triton, was hiding 
Where a dying east gale threw upon 
Lodge cliffs billows seething and foaming. 

He clutched the famed goddess by the hair, 
Shouting, "Ah, gay enchantress, beware! 
We all love your smiles so bewitching, 
Aud your wine which is e'er entrancing. 
But as you have held the sea god's son 
From a forest bride he fairly won, 
I bid you depart to hades' caves 
Where the imp of darkness ever raves, 
And revel there in anguish of pain 
Until I call you to me again. 

Unto the maiden of the forest 
Sang Triton from a wave's curling crest, 
" Maid, whom I wooed in the drop of spray, 
Oh, my forest loved one, come away 
Where the mermaids are sweetly singing 
As with the nymphs they 're gaily dancing, 
And love is the life of every hour, 
Come, now, my love, unto thy dower." 

Smilingly, the forest maid answered, 
" Oh, prince of my heart, thy voice I 've heard, 
I '11 come, I '11 come, my loved one to thee, 
And wherever 's thy home, mine shall be." 



Then sprang she down the beach, but before 
The waves embraced her, above the shore 
Fluttered the spirit born with the spring, 
Whose waters daily thro' Love brook sing; 
Fluttered and spake, "Thro' rills and fountains 
Come ocean's waters from the mountains, 
And all the Fells-land's rippling brooks be 
Parts of the life of the mighty sea, 
But maidens among the forests bred, 
Not even the sea's princes may wed." 

"Why not?" Neptune angrily cried, 
Bidding Triton flee with his bride. 
" Who sent you to dispute my will? 
Ho, my mermen ! awake and kill 
This bold Fells-land spirit who dares say 
Triton shall not claim his bride today! " 

" Neptune, you may be king of the sea, 

But, remember, there 's a Deity 

Who all the universe created 

And who decrees, there shall be mated 

No child of earth to child of the sea," 

Sang the spring's spirit, as tenderly 

She bore the weeping maiden away, 

While black storm clouds rushed o'er sea and bay. 

In vain Poseidon bade the Venti 
Bring back to him the forest maiden, 
Vainly to her did prince Triton cry, 
" Come back, my love, and live in Eden." 
'Mong the clouds, the spirit of the spring 
Bore the forest maid swiftly away ; 
Yet once more unto Neptune calling, 
"The sea and the earth must God obey." 

In his great shell car standing, 
Gazing around in wonder, 
While came the lightning flashing, 
And heavy pealing thunder, 
Spake Neptune to his people, 
" Forget not this day's lesson, 
Taught thro' your king and his son. 



Sigh not for earthly graces, 
For you 're children of the sea 
Who should stay in your places, 
If you would live happily." 

Beside the spring which was bubbling 
Merrily 'mong rocks and mosses, 
While around her birds were singing, 
And toyed the wind with her tresses, 
Slept the maid ; and from the water, 
Which sweetly sang to its daughter, 
Watched the spring's beautiful spirit, 
Who, when the sun's great lamps were lit, 
Wrote a message in drops of dew. 
She gathered among the mosses, 
Gently to the sleeping maid drew, 
Touched her with tender caresses, 
Then, laughing, singing merrily, 
Dancing and skipping gracefully, 
While twining lilies around her head, 
Away in Love brook swiftly sped. 

Far in the Fells where the pine grows 

By the side of its hemlock friend, 

Where Per-ine spring its bright spray throws 

O'er lilies which gracefully bend 

With the swirling of its waters, 

Happily among the daughters 

Of mountain sprites, who make their home 

Where wood-nymphs 'mong the shadows roam, 

Lives the maid, who, in drops of dew, 

Read the maxim forever true, 

" Seek contentment within your sphere, 

Among the friends who hold you dear." 



i.rfC. 



JUL 6 1900 



...f'BRARV 



OF 



INGRESS 



075 



906 



554 6 i» 



